Amity
by Mariah Kechum
Summary: Hannah Shepard and Officer Vakarian simply hated each other from the moment they met. Over the next ten years their relationship became what could only be considered "complicated". Garrus x F!Shep mentioned.


**Amity**

Author's Notes: I am sorry for the long point of no word, but Mass Effect 3 murdered my muse. The ending, and more to the point, the way Bioware treated anyone who did not give unqualified praise to them was disgraceful, and as far as I am concerned, they have well and truly stepped in it. The following story is meant to be _mostly_ following cannon, but it will deviate in places. Amity is meant to be read after my story "Waypoint", so I would highly recommend reading it before starting on this story. Most of this story is going to be major extrapolations from what we know, and to act as a small bridge for "Clad in Gilded Shadow".

**Prologue: The Enemy of My Enemy is a Friend**

Disclaimer: The Mass Effect universe belongs to Bioware and EA (though they are clearly not nice to their toys). The unfamiliar concepts belong to me. Don't bother suing; I don't have anything worth taking.

"_Goodbye to the sky/ I know I can't fly, but I feel love.  
Do you know how I feel?/ You are my Achilles heel."_

_ -Achilles Heel, Toploader_

"Ma'am! Reaper destroyer coming up on our starboard, and closing fast!" the helmsman yelled back towards command, stoically waiting for the fire to be extinguished from the console on his left.

"Helm, check your swing!" commanded Rear Admiral Shepard over the sounds of battle and the bone shaking groans of the Reapers, widening her stance as another shot nicked their shields to keep from falling. "I want you to sandwich that son of a bitch between us and the _Tai Shan_." Another blow rocked the CIC. The grey haired woman yelled into her comm. "Main Battery!" See if you can take out some of those Occuli! We're dying from paper cuts up here."

"Aye, aye ma'am!"

Hannah Shepard fought back a feral grin- all teeth and malice. She absently noted that one of the ensigns had grabbed at fire extinguisher and was running around frantically. Any more fires and they were going to have to vent the damn bridge.

"Major fires have been reported on decks six and seven," their ship's VI reported calmly.

"Casualties?" Shepard demanded.

The orange VI interface flicked once before replying. "All crew-members accounted for and making use of ELSA. Shutting off ventilation in five seconds."

"Acknowledged. Restart ventilation as soon as the fires are out." Hannah swung her head toward where her helmsman was making frantic gestures to coax the massive dreadnought to gracefully dance into place where she was needed. "Protecting the Crucible is our top priority, but see if we can't pull some heat off that Quarian ship. Fire at will!"

The _Orizaba's _deck plates shuttered more delicately under her boots as its main cannon fired repeatedly, trying to draw some fire away from their charge and the embattled vessel. The overall silence of the battle was jarring to the relatively new recruits who had been forced to take charge when the first hit had killed several of the senior bridge crew instantly, causing them to crawl over their superior's bodies to man their posts. Hannah Shepard did not glance at them or the still form of the Captain who had taken over her ship after her promotion, nor would she show grief or pain. All of that would come later- should she survive. She did spare a single thought for her daughter that was as much a litany and a prayer . . . something that had become a secondary process like breathing. 'Come on honey. Get this thing to fire or we're all dead. Come on-'

"Attention joined fleets, this is Commander Shepard." The sound stopped her, as though someone had struck her in the back of her head with a board with the recondition. Her daughter's voice sounded wary and sad. "The Crucible is preparing to fire, but it may destroy the Mass Relays. Recommend full retreat toward the rendezvous point." Several wet coughs followed, somehow overriding the instant cacophony of a thousand leaders demanding information.

"Please," Commander Shepard croaked into the resulting silence. "You don't have much time."

Another voice joined her daughter's. "You heard her! Full retreat!"

A thousand scenarios crashed discordantly in Admiral Shepard's mind, causing a knee jerk reaction. "Cover them!" she commanded the fleet protecting the Crucible." Buy them the time they need to get through the relay now!"

"But the Crucible-" someone, she was not sure who, objected.

"Is not as big a target as those retreating ships," Hannah Shepard cut them off, wrapping one hand more securely around the strap she held to keep from falling. "You have your orders." The Orizaba shuttered again.

As she had feared, the Reapers were trying to concentrate on the retreating fleets while the combined dreadnoughts tried to provide cover fire. The deck shook more forcefully as one Reaper clipped their shields. Another console exploded, shattering glass everywhere. "Someone put out that damn fire!"

The groaning cry of a Reaper reading itself to shred another dreadnought drilled in the admiral's ear. Hannah's pulse quickened as each opposing ship tried to bring about it's main gun first, the red veins in the enemy ship lighting up briefly as its arms opened. The _Orizaba_ roared first, and the opposing ship crumpled with its gun unfired. Loosening her grip so she could see their battlefield better, Shepard allowed a small smile of satisfaction even as her eyes swept back toward their sensors for the next immediate threat.

She noticed her helmsman's movements suddenly had an undertone of sheer terror. "Ma'am!" he yelled across the bridge to her. "The Crucible-"

The_ Orizaba's_ hull gave a horrible scream and a wave of while light heaved the whole of the combined fleets out of place. One Reaper in their view exploded as the wave engulfed it on the way out to the Charon Relay. There should have been no sound- there was no sound in space; but the energy cried as harsh whisper, a roar, and a silent scream all at once. Her ship gave a death kneel, throwing her backward before a large support beam crushed both her post and her right arm.

_Hannah smiled at Alan, leaning her head gently against his shoulder as the two of them sat together on the hill. Neither of them broke the companionable silence, content to be together and watch their daughter play._

_The little one was off chasing a butterfly, young enough that she was still falling down fairly often, but old enough to not cry. Bumps, scrapes and bruises are normal things on toddlers, or so her husband had repeated her often enough. Hannah had no siblings so she just took him at his word. The two of them fit together, like a clip and its gun, complemented and complementing, husband and wife. Now their daughter only added to their joy. They watched as their little Shepard ran just out of view, her husband admonishing his daughter to stay where they could see her._

_There were voices, but they were distant and muffled. Hannah ignored them as time seemed to flow away from her. Suddenly she was alone, and in the emptiness she felt her heart harden._

_The sun set was beautiful, just having started to really dip toward the horizon, but Hannah felt no warmth and one of her hands had gone numb. A small rustle of dried grass behind her made her aware of her daughter's presence behind her, but she couldn't move. Almost out of view, a bloody, sooty hand covered in horribly abused armor settled lightly on her shoulder. Her daughter's voice rasped gently against her ear, warm in the cold light._

"_Love you mom. Love you. . ."_

Her jaw wrenched open and a horrible scream left it; a sound she was only marginally aware came from her own throat. She tried to thrash about and get away from the searing, cauterizing pain pressing against her shoulder. The heat left, and she heard a thermal clip hit the floor.

"Admiral Shepard, can you hear me?" the voice came from one of the junior medical officers; a good kid, if still a little green. "Admiral, you've been injured. I need you to focus on my voice and stay calm, OK?" The blackness in her vision cleared slightly, heads bobbing back and forth as they worked on her. A tight band was being wound painfully over top of her chest.

"She's fighting us! Someone pass me the tranc."

Her world went black again, but this time it was dreamless.

The first thing she noticed was the air tasted differently than she was used to. Instead of stale, cold air that sat somewhat dully on her tongue, the wind was warm and heavy with ozone, ash, and burning flesh. She heard a quiet weeping coming from somewhere off to her left, muffled by some kind of fabric.

Her vision rewarded her with a grey ceiling, pocketed and pitted by warfare. The building was clearly made of concrete, as well as not as badly damaged as it could have been by the invasion. Someone had hung strips of fabric between what she assumed were the beds in a half hearted bid to provide some privacy. The blanket that was covering her from head to toe felt slightly scratchy, but warm; crocheted by hand if she could believe her vision. She had no idea what time of day it was, or even how long she had been there and even now she was plagued by a weighty lethargy. Hannah took a deep breath and began to self-diagnose, starting from her toes.

About the time she was contemplating her sore middle, she realized her right arm was so numb she couldn't feel it. With some effort, she moved her neck to one side and searched for the lump under the thin sheet that should have covered the limb . . .

Her entire arm was gone- amputated all the way up to her shoulder. She wanted to be angry- to do something except lay there in the cot, but she slipped away again into the void instead.

When she awoke again, there was a cool dampness in the air. 'Early morning,' she thought to herself.

Within a few minutes the Rear Admiral could head the shuffling of at least six sets of feet, their owners speaking quickly and with little regard for the wounded they were disturbing. She didn't have to wait long before an asari nurse appeared at the foot of her bed.

"Oh, you're awake," she said before glancing down at the data pad in her hand. Hannah noted her clothes were stained with the rainbow of blood stains from the various races of the galaxy. "You have some visitors, if you're up to it."

Hannah nodded slowly, "Could you bring me something to drink please?"

The asari hesitated, "All we have is water. . ." She trailed off at Hannah's sharp nod of agreement before she disappeared again. Hannah was still alone when the entourage arrived.

There were several different species in the group; all of them council races and well dressed considering the war-zone. The human in the middle of it all was chattering a kilometer a minute to four separate assistants who buzzed around her like she was the queen in a hive. Her face was oval shaped, with wide, thin lips, bright white teeth and smallish eyes. She flicked one thick lock of hair back, a grey stripe down her otherwise black mane being the most distinguishing feature on the woman. "Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard!" she greeted.

Hannah managed a polite smile. "I'm sorry, you have me at a disadvantage Miss?"

The woman's face stilled a little. "Where are my manners? I am Huang Chung, appointed Prime Minister of the Systems Alliance."

Hannah struggled with her bed and blankets for a moment before successfully managing a sitting position. She saluted crisply with her left hand, "Madam Prime Minister." She glanced at the party of people trailing in the Prime Minister's wake. "I knew we had lost a lot of our leadership when the Reapers took out Arcturus Station-"

Prime Minister Chung waved away the rest of her sentence, "I ended up being delayed, along with a few of my peers. Annoying at the time, but I'm grateful for it now." The group surrounding her began to chatter all at once at Hannah, who began to feel slightly out of her depth.

Hannah tried to study the new head of the Alliance's parliament to keep her from feeling claustrophobic. While the politician's pant suit was professional and well cut, it was just shy of being perfectly pressed. Her teeth showed bright white beside her red lipstick and café au lait skin, which still clung to a native yellow undertone. "If I could have a moment in private ambassadors, I would greatly appreciate it. I don't believe I will be delayed for too long, and while I'm sure the rear admiral would appreciate the praise she deserves being laid at her feet, I don't think she looks quite up for it. Having so many visitors at once is _exhausting_!" Her head did a small counter-clockwise circle to emphasize her point. The small group stepped outside reluctantly. Hannah noticed a single man among the group desperately trying to catch her eye as they left. The smaller woman glared at him as he hesitated a moment too long. "That will be ALL," she ordered the retreating man firmly.

"Madam Prime Minister, to what do I owe the hono-" Hannah began again.

"Relax Shepard," She told her. She smiled again. " Please, be a little less formal. There's no one here for you to impress anyway."

Slightly discomforted by the Prime Minister's casual tone, Hannah obediently sank back into the flat pillows. "Is this a social visit ma'am?"

"Social-ish," the politician confirmed, "Those of us leaders who survived the Reaper assault are making the rounds with the wounded to let them know how much we appreciate them. Silly fools! Not that they don't deserve it, but solders who lost everything are not going to care what some politician who hid in a bunker says." She paused long enough to sit at the end of the bed. "But I also wanted to tell you a little about the challenges we are facing now." Huang flicked her fingertips out, and her aids hastened to leave the two of them alone. She steeped her fingers imperfectly. "I won't lie- it looks pretty bad. Whatever came out of the crucible strained the Mass Relays. The Council has put a limit on the number of ships passing though them for fear of over stressing them. What this means is we can't lift marital law just yet; we're facing a massive food shortage and the devastation everywhere is almost incomprehensible." She seemed far away for a moment, lost in thought.

"My daughter?" Hannah asked quietly into the resulting uncomfortable silence.

The Prime Minister looked away. "They found her body yesterday. I just came from the briefing myself." The shorter woman sighed, rubbing her arms to ward off some phantom chill. "Which makes what I am about to ask very difficult."

Hannah Shepard watched the leader of the Alliance pace a little, her mind strangely taking note of the slightly rumpled blouse that would have made her political opponents laugh her right out of the running less than a year ago.

"We need a symbol. Because of that, we still need your daughter."

"What!?" The fleet admiral barked, startled out of courtesy.

Huang flinched. "We are in dire straits, Rear Admiral. The Reapers have unfortunately taken away even the luxury of burial for many people. There are so many dead we are being forced to separate the dead by species and burn them. Morale is ebbing lower every day. We have _so many_ dead that the living are starting to _envy_ them. Your daughter, Shepard, is still a very powerful symbol. If humanity has an icon to rally around, we might be able to keep a lid on the raiding, the crime, and the despair. We do not have any hope or inspiration to waste. Indeed to do so would be an insult to your daughter's memory and sacrifice."

Hannah's eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you want?"

"I want to have her lay-in-state, an image of humanity's best in glory." Huang flipped a lock of hair over one shoulder. "If her tomb was a symbol of what we have sacrificed for victory, the people would remember what we won, as well as what we lost. Your daughter gave up everything for them- I would make sure the great masses don't forget that."

Hannah said nothing, allowing the silence to stretch uncomfortably.

The Prime Minister stared at Hannah Shepard, waiting until she met her eyes again. "I don't need your permission; you're military and still must follow my orders. I WANT your permission. We have no energy or time to waste on in fighting."

A slight tapping on the floor alerted them both before an aid stuck her head into Hannah's cubicle. "Ma'am, your 9:30 is coming up. If we're going to make it on time, we need to go."

Shepard looked at the frazzled looking aid, and past the hazy, stained piece of cloth that did little to mute the quiet sobs around her. "You've told me a lot. I'll need to think about it for a while."

Prime Minister Chung made a slight moue and then the expression was gone. "That is perfectly understandable. It has been a trying day, and of course you need to process everything. Have a good day Rear Admiral Shepard. I'll be in touch."

Hannah remained slightly slumped over in her bed for long enough that when the asari nurse finally returned with the requested water Hannah almost didn't want it anymore.

When she awoke again, a nervous female turian was standing at the foot of her bed. Something about her was familiar. . .

"Solana Vakarian?" Hannah hazarded, startling her.

The turian twisted to face her, the cobalt blue markings across her face confirming her suspicion. "Rear Admiral Shepard?" the younger woman asked after recovering. Her eyes swing around the little space. "Do you have a moment?" she asked.

Hannah sighed, and then nodded. "Pull up some rubble."

Solana's mandibles spasmed slightly, an equivalent of a human startled into smiling. "It's pretty awful, isn't?" the turian dragged a small stool- or at least a rock that might serve as one, over toward her bed. She watched the human struggle for a moment before reaching over to help. If she noticed Hannah's cheeks flush hot with embarrassment and shame she made no sign. Solana did her best to prop the human against the pillow, paying odd attention to her lower back and neck.

Hannah looked away, carefully schooling her expression. She was almost afraid to ask if Solana's father was dead. "What did you need to talk to me about?" She wanted to grasp both hands together, but she was forced to awkwardly lay her left hand in her lap instead.

Solana's head tilted slightly at the motion, reminding her very strongly of a bird. "I'm sorry," she said at last." Her eyes flickered over the missing arm. " I didn't realize how badly you were hurt. Has anyone talked to you about when they're going to get you a replacement?"

The rear admiral shook her head, "I don't think they want to talk about it just yet. I know we were not vat-growing limbs for soldiers relatively early in the war because there was no resources to spend on it. I can't believe we are better off now in that respect." Her missing arm began to itch. "But you didn't come here to talk about my injuries." Her gaze caught the younger woman, "What is it?"

After a moment, Solana looked away. "It's been over a week and the _Normandy_ is still not accounted for," she told the open air. "They, along with approximately ten percent of the Victory fleet have gone in a completely different direction than the rendezvous point. But no one is looking for those missing ships. " She stood and began to pace, her boots making soft clicking noises against the broken tile floor. She wrung her hands, playing with a small wrinkle in her gloves. "I understand the logic in that, but that is my brother who is missing!"

Hannah watched the younger woman pace, the barrier of species veiling her abilities to decide how upset she was. "Have you spoken to your leaders about this?"

"Yes, I've talked to Primarch Victus." Solana shook her head. "Personally he wants to help, but professionally he can't. He has to look to all the turians who need his help here. Plus the _Normandy _is an Alliance ship. He can't really commission a search for it. That's the other problem," Solana's shoulders slumped. "If they're just stuck somewhere and can't get back, he may starve before we can afford to look for him. The _Normandy's _staffed primarily with humans and other levo-amino species, so most of their supplies he can't eat." She sat down suddenly on her rubble-seat, something of her posture speaking of sickening fear, held in check.

"I understand," Hannah began slowly, "But I'm not sure how I could help."

"If the Alliance were to commission a search," Solana began quietly, "Then someone would be doing something. I've already lost my mother; I don't want to lose my stubborn brother too."

Hannah sat quietly in her stiff hospital bed for so long Solana began to fear that the human was somehow dismissing her. "No promises," she said at last, "But I'll try."

"Rear Admiral Shepard," the Prime Minister told her as massive amounts of data pads were shuffled around them, as if they were in some strange assembly line pantomime, "This is highly unusual. We need all of our resources here. In addition, I was pretty sure I told you that the use of the mass relays is extremely curtailed at the moment."

"I understand that Madam Prime Minister," Hannah quietly pleaded, pausing momentarily to allow another document to pass in front of her. It had taken three days of fighting with the doctors to get them to allow her up from her bed, and privately the Alliance officer conceded the possibility that they were right in objecting, Keeping up with the swarm of politicians and aids was exhausting. "But surely you see the need to search for the missing ships."

"There are many worthy needs, but not enough people. We have to conserve our resources. We have to put Earth first right now. The vast majority of the fleet needs our help, and we can't waste time looking for stragglers or chasing wild geese." She initialed off on another data pad after scanning it briefly, and then grabbed the next one in line.

"Surely we can spare the _Orizaba_?" Shepard pressed.

"The _Orizaba_? Assuming she is space-worthy, yes. Her personnel? Not as easily." Huang scanned the new document. "No. Send this speech back- too much melodrama." She told the young aid hurrying beside her. "Even if you were given approval, you'd have to staff her entirely with volunteers. Livingston! Make sure those krogan have the food they need, plus whatever the geth use for power to keep digging through the rubble, I don't care how!" An owlish man nodded and broke off from the swarm, orders in hand.

Shepard began to fear a dismissal was forthcoming. "Ma'am, I cannot leave my daughter's crew to possibly starve to death. I can't disrespect her memory that way." Hannah said forcefully.

The Prime Minister paused mid-stride. "A moment in private with the rear admiral please," she told her staff.

Hannah waited as the aids cleared the hall, mentally preparing for a dressing down for over-stepping herself. The head of earth gave her a measuring look. "And shooting your daughter off into space or burying her on some back-water world when she could still assist humanity isn't?"

The most junior rear admiral in the Alliance fleet hesitated before choosing her words carefully. "You may honor my daughter in your own way; but let me honor her in mine."

The two women stood together, jaws set, each attempting to measure the other. At last the head of the Systems Alliance Prime Minister lowered her head slightly- a half nod. "I expect you to be here for the may take the _Orizaba_; but you must find your own volunteers."

Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard saluted. "Yes Ma'am. I can do that."

'How the Hell am I going to do this?' Hannah asked herself once more late into that evening, as she tried to whittle down the number of people she needed for even a skeleton crew. Fully staffed, the dreadnaught would take a crew of approximately two and a half thousand. Bare bones she needed seventeen hundred people to operate her ship, much less rescue anyone. She was also reluctant to mention exactly why she needed so many volunteers- she knew that several of the people who were part of her daughter's crew had dangerous enemies. It seemed likely that if she just had a cattle call, she'd end up having to race unsavory people to find them- not a good proposition if you're going to be looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.

A soft, trill-like sound stirred her from her half embrace of Morpheus. "Come in," she whispered around a mouthful of the dust that perpetually hung in the air.

The melodic quality lulled her into assuming her visitor was Solana. So perhaps Hannah could have been forgiven for assuming Solana was back and instead being startled when the tall and imposing turian men entered her barren corner of the hospital. Out of habit she scooted her data-pad beneath the handmade blanket feeling for her gun, only to feel foolish a moment later. Both of them looked her over carefully, making her painfully aware of her disheveled condition. She was at least clean due to the careful grooming she had undertaken before her meeting with the Prime Minister, but she was struggling to keep up with her toiletries with her missing arm. She was suddenly aware of how exhausted and vulnerable she was.

"We apologize for the late night visit, Rear Admiral Shepard." One of them said, his face shadowed in the dim light. "But we felt this was a time sensitive issue and should not wait until morning."

The other made a small noise, and motioned forward. Both adjusted their stances, moving forward slightly so the light would catch their faces. Hannah blinked once. Officer Vakarian she recognized, but not the other turian with him.

"I am Primarch Adrien Victus," The turian introduced himself. "We met the other day, but I would not expect you to remember me. I believe you already know my associate."

Hannah felt a strip of goose flesh run down the center of her back, but made no other outward signs of her fear. She knew of Victus from his conquests in the brief First Contact War. He had been very young at the time- but had pioneered several unusual but highly successful (and fatal) moves against the humans in those days. She felt the familiar wave of sick rage start to build somewhere south of her ribcage.

Then her eyes flew to Officer Vakarian, whose alien gaze held grief and the same terror she had seen in Solana, and it stopped her distrust cold. Whatever else he might have done, Victus had come with the turian fleet to save earth and their galaxy. It suddenly was disturbing to her how reflexive her hate had become- more a habit than a thought out and logical conclusion. Moreover, Vakarian, whom she knew was honorable, would not have brought anyone to disturb her unless he had a good reason- much less bring someone to murder her and somehow abscond with the body. The idea was absurd, and she found herself half smiling mockingly at herself jumping at shadows in the dark.

"How may I help you at," she glanced around for a clock, finding none, "Oh-God-Thirty at night?" Her voice was heavy with weary irony.

The turians glanced at each other, the joke either falling flat and both being too polite to point it out or being lost in the horrible garble that was a translation program. "I just got some very interesting information though some diplomatic cables. Some in high circles are whispering that you have succeeded in convincing your higher ups in allowing a secondary search for stranded vessels. And that you're going off in a separate direction from where most are concentrating their efforts." He paused meaningfully. "An all volunteer group by order, if what I heard is correct."

"Sir, no one has committed to coming yet," Hannah said quietly.

Victus smiled, and she found herself smiling in answer. "You're just not asking the right people yet. How many?"

Hannah fumbled a little for the data pad pinned at one hip before handing it off to him. "My ship usually staffs a crew of around two thousand."

Victus nodded, as if this matched his intel. "I'll get in contact with Urdnot Wrex in the morning. He'll know some people we can trust."

We. It was one of the most powerful words in any language that Hannah knew, and the idea of 'we' comforted her.

Victus sighed. "I have more to do tomorrow- and I think that we all would be better off for some sleep."

Hannah nodded. "I don't think we can do any more good tonight . . . sir." She tacked on the honorific, unsure what would be proper. Victus only nodded before turning to leave.

Vakarian saluted his Primarch, but did not go out the doorway with him. He seemed to hesitate for a long moment before moving close to her. Hannah slowly drew her legs up, clearing space for him to sit in response to a request she was only half sure she saw. The former C-Sec Officer gave her an odd look before settling into the open spot on the blanket. They sat together for a long while before either found any words to say.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Hannah whispered feeling a little helpless as she remembered Solana's grief over her mother. Winching even as she spoke them, Hannah hated that phrase. Dumb, stupid words that everyone says when there is nothing else to comfort.

Vakarian simply looked at her. "And I, yours," he replied slowly. "She seemed so invincible; I didn't think this would happen, though the odds were never in favor of her surviving."

Hannah absently ran blunt nails over her collarbone. "Your wife or my daughter?"

"Yes."


End file.
